Ten to Three
by metro.max
Summary: A collection of Tokka drabbles based on the new Season Three episodes. [9. Mind Shadows: Aang isn't the only one having nightmares...]
1. Blind Date

**Disclaimer: **As much as I wish I was M&B, I am sadly not, for I am female.

**Author's Notes: **In honor of the season three premier, I bring you season three Tokka fic! This is the start of a collection of drabbles called _Ten to Three_, one for every new episode of Avatar that comes out. So here's the spoiler warning in advance:

**BASED ON "THE AWAKENING"; MILD SPOILERS**

Enjoy and please review!

Alisa

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_Ten to Three_

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_1. blind date _

"This looks like a good place," Sokka said, peering into the nearly empty restaurant. It had small tables, a generic Fire Nation menu, and an old couple as waiters. "What d'you think, Toph?"

She didn't bother to correct him as she replied, "It looks great. Now let's get some grub!"

They found a cozy table in the corner and squished into the cramped space, their backs against the wall and the chairs pulled close around the table. Sokka bumped his knee against hers rhythmically as the tiny old woman smiled at them from across the counter.

She leaned into her husband, and although Sokka couldn't hear what she said, the blind girl could: "They make such a handsome couple, don't they?"

Toph didn't bother to correct her.


	2. One, Two, Step

**Author's Notes: **There wasn't as much Tokka interaction in this episode as I wanted, but I got what I was looking for (and more). I hope you enjoy, and please review!

**SPOILERS FOR "THE HEADBAND."**

Alisa_**  
**_

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_Ten to Three_

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_2. One, Two, Step_

She threw her head back and took a gulp of her drink. Moonpeach, just like Aang had wanted.

The pulse rang through her, vibrated through the earth and through the air and straight into her. She willed her foot to stop tapping the off-beat rhythm it was dancing. She was never particularly good at musical things.

"Hey, Toph."

She had to concentrate to discern him from the hundreds of dancing feet, and even then it wasn't exactly easy—his whole body was tensed, as if preparing for something.

"Hey, Snoozles." She grinned up at him, feeling his heart kick up just a notch now that she was focusing on him. She was sure he didn't even notice it, it was so faint.

He shifted his weight to his left foot, his right barely making an impression on the ground, and gestured vaguely to the crowd behind him. "Want to dance?"

The foot that had been twitching suddenly ceased. "Wha—?"

"Come dance with me," he said, his hand suddenly in front of her, waiting. "You've just been sitting here. Let's dance."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't exactly do dancing, Snoozles."

"Sure you do!" he insisted, tugging at her hand. "Everyone does. You just have to stand—" he gave a hearty pull on her arm, "—up!"

She shrugged him off with a flick of her wrist. "I guess I could." A few joints popped as she stood up and stretched her arms over her head.

"Great!" He took her wrist in his fingers and gave a running start toward the dance floor.

She was pulled along behind him, a smile creeping on her face. "You'd better not step on my feet, Ponytail!" she called after him, her face scowling though something almost akin to laughter was in her voice.

He took her other hand in his as the music crescendoed around them. "Just follow my steps," he said, leading her to the left.

She took a step, just like he had, and grinned up at him as he moved to the right. "You know," she said, as he twirled her around in a circle, "this isn't so—"

A silence fell over the crowd. A voice rang out. "He's the one we want! The boy with the headband!"

And that was the end of that.


	3. A Gained Perspective

**Author's Notes: **I had so many different ideas for all the hand holding, I wasn't quite sure what to do. But after typing this out at midnight last night, I decided that this idea was the one. Review?

**SPOILERS FOR "THE PAINTED LADY."**

Alisa_**  
**_

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_Ten to Three_

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_3. A Gained Perspective _

The wood was rough and unfamiliar beneath her toughened feet, an unforeseen enemy in this strange new terrain. She tightened her grip on his arm.

She was blind, now more than ever, in this city of wood and water. She was out of her element and she only had one thing to hold on to—him. Boat rides through polluted waters, long walks through timber streets, and all she had was the fleeting comfort of his skin hot against hers.

Heat rushed to her face as he tugged her along, hands securely laced and tucked tight between them. She scowled at the embarrassment burning in her cheeks and at her own foolish heartbeat, thumping pleasantly in her chest as that alter ego dwelling in the back of her mind relished the warm sensation of skin on skin and welcomed the vibrations of his voice rumbling through her.

His fingers curled around hers and she settled her damp palm against his. Inside of her, deep in the pit of her stomach, she could feel the prickle of nervousness and embarrassment build up to her lungs, threatening to overwhelm her.

She shoved back the feelings violently.

It was one thing to hold hands with Sokka, but it was another altogether to actually like it.


	4. For Future Reference

**Author's Notes: **Katara's line is the most amazing thing I have ever heard. That is all.

**SPOILERS FOR "SOKKA'S MASTER."**

Alisa_**  
**_

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_Ten to Three_

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_4. For Future Reference _

The words slipped out before she had a chance to change them, before she had a chance to change her tone of voice, her implications, her feelings. She could hear every longing in those three words, every missed vibration, every missed comment, every missed touch. She could hear the sigh behind her words, heavy and real. She could hear the underlying _(what? Love?) _that never actually reached the surface.

"I miss Sokka."

Katara scuffled, sitting up; Toph could hear the wheels in her brain turning.

"If you miss him so much," she started, and Toph could sense where this was going _(the lilt in her voice, the adrenaline rush, the straight vibrations true to their mark)_, "why don't you marry him!"

Toph blushed. She could feel it growing, rising up her neck, into her cheeks, across the bridge of her nose. Without a word _(what could she say that wasn't a lie?)_, she turned on her side and let the flush wash over her, let the words _(the implications oh the implications)_ wash over her, let the hot sensation in her stomach wash over her until she had the nerve to think.

_Marry Sokka?_

The thought clenched around her heart in a painfully familiar sensation before releasing, ever so slowly. It felt as if her stomach was filled with molten magma that was bursting to bubble forth, rising up in her chest and burning her lungs.

_Marry Sokka?_

Breath wouldn't come to her and she found, quickly, that the sensation wasn't a horrible one. She could get used to it, this feeling of breathlessness, this feeling of lightheadedness, this feeling of floating on air.

_Marry Sokka?_

She could imagine, for one brief moment quickly shunned away, the feeling of kissing him every day, whenever she pleased. She could imagine, for a second so tragically lost, touching him and feeling his glowing warmth. She could imagine, for one shining instant that flickered out of existence, waking up next to him for the rest of her life.

_Marry Sokka?_

Toph allowed herself a soft chuckle. _You know what, Sweetness?_ (She smiled.)

_Maybe I will._


	5. Peripheral Vision

**Author's Notes: **There was nothing (let me repeat that: NOTHING) in this episode that I could use. (Since Sokka got, you know, one line.) So I used the fact Toph was in her underwear.

**SPOILERS FOR "THE BEACH."**

Alisa_**  
**_

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_Ten to Three_

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_5. Peripheral Vision_

He saw her out of the corner of his eye.

The sash worn around her waist was already in a pool at her feet. The "cape," as they had so adequately named it, was thrown off without a care, adding to the pile of discarded clothing. And the outfit, which she wore underneath it all, clung to her sweaty body like a second skin.

It happened so quickly that he didn't have a chance to blink, let alone avert his eyes.

She looped her fingers in the red cloth under her arms and pulled down. He snapped his eyes shut for a moment until the ruffling of clothing ended and then he delicately peered out from behind closed lids.

Blinking, he glanced around and squeaked when he found a blind Earthbender tapping her foot in front of him.

"What's your problem?" she asked, the vibrations she was sending out feeding her information about peaked heart rate and overbalanced stance (_nervous?_).

Sokka's eyes snapped shut again. "You—you're in your underwear!"

"So?" she asked, plainly unaware of what she was doing. "You are too."

"Yeah, but..." He struggled for an explanation (_for himself_). "You're you! You're Toph and Toph would never go out in her underwear!"

Eyebrows raised under her wind-blown bangs. "Apparently Toph would. Besides, isn't this just what our gang does? Save the world in our undies?"

"No!" he cried. A pause. "Only sometimes! And that doesn't mean you should do it all the time!"

Her eyebrows knit together. "This is the only time I've done it, noodlebrain. What's your problem?"

His voice reached a new pitch as he screeched, "Nothing, absolutely nothing!" He folded his arms and humphed, then sent a glare at her (_eyes drawn to the ban of yellow of course not_). "I'm going fishing!"

Toph shrugged nonchalantly. "Okay. I'm gonna go sit in the water." She walked away and he forced his eyes shut.

"Toph," he told himself firmly. "She's Toph."

The girl paused for a fraction of a moment, brief enough that Sokka didn't even notice. A grin curled on her face.

"Fishing?" She shook her head and bit back a smile. "_Ha_."


	6. Outside Looking In

**Author's Notes: **This was surprisingly easy to think of, considering how much Gaang there was in this episode. And, um... it's awkward writing from Katara's point of view?

**SPOILERS FOR "THE AVATAR AND THE FIRELORD."**

Alisa_**  
**_

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_Ten to Three_

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_6. Outside Looking In _

I watched in mild horror as Aang lifted up his leg, swung it around into a squat, and made a pained face before relaxing once again. A disgusted look appeared on my face as I continued to stare at Aang.

"Do they have bathrooms in the Spirit World?" I asked faintly, not addressing anyone in particular but getting a response anyway.

"As a matter of fact, they do not."

I turned to raise my eyebrows at my brother and next to me, Toph snorted.

"What d'you know about the Spirit World?" she asked, one eyebrow raised critically.

"I happen to know a lot of things about the Spirit World," Sokka informed her testily. "I've been there."

Toph didn't bother to hide the disbelief on her face as she said, "You've been to the Spirit World?"

"Yes, I have," said Sokka stoutly, "and let me tell you, it's not very fun when you have to go to the bathroom."

Toph gave a bright laugh that startled me—it was the truest laugh I'd ever heard from her, not sarcastic or mocking, but truly amused. It brought a smile to my lips and I couldn't help but laugh as well.

"Hey, don't laugh!" Sokka demanded. "You know I've been to the Spirit World, Katara, tell her!"

"He really has been to the Spirit World, Toph," I informed the younger girl. "He only had to be kidnapped by a giant spirit to do it, but Sokka's been there."

Sokka scowled and Toph grinned. "Why have I never heard this story before?"

"Because people always seem to think being kidnapped by a giant man-eating spirit is funny!" he cut in, irritated.

I chuckled. "C'mon, Sokka, you have to think that's a little funny."

His scowl softened. "Maybe a little."

"So?" said Toph, hand on her hip as she addressed Sokka. "Are you gonna tell me this story or what?"

A grin formed on his face. "If you really want to hear it…"

I settled myself next to Aang as Sokka began his epic tale of spirits, faceless monkeys, and no bathrooms, Toph trotting along behind him as he spoke. They plopped down in between two of Appa's legs and I watched them curiously as they talked.

It was sort of funny, just sitting here next to Aang and watching them, because whenever it was actually just Sokka and Toph, Aang and I were off Waterbending. But now I could see how they acted together, and it was something I'd never really noticed before.

Sokka was just as exuberant as he normally was, but now it was less about gestures and more about tone. Even though I couldn't hear him, I could tell he was focusing more on his words than the performances he usually gave with his stories. I don't think he knew, but he was adapting his story-telling to Toph.

And speaking of Toph, she was acting different as well. Instead of the cool, detached impression she usually gave, she was leaning in toward Sokka and smiling and laughing, loud enough that even I could hear it. She looked like a _girl_ next to my brother, instead of just Toph. She looked like she was having fun.

I smiled as I observed them.

"They look like they're having fun, don't they?"

My head spun so fast that I heard it crack. "Aang!" I threw my arms around him in a quick hug that he gently returned.

"Sokka must be saying something really funny to make Toph laugh that hard," he observed, a certain pinkness still bright in his cheeks. "Do they always have this much fun when I'm gone?"

I gave Aang a soft smile and gazed at Sokka and Toph. They were both laughing.

"You know what I think, Aang?" I asked. He blinked at me with wide gray eyes. "I think they're always this happy together."

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**AN: **Um, ew? This really isn't up to par with the other stories in this collection, but I don't have the time for a rewrite, so have at it in your reviews. 


	7. Unthought Thoughts

**Author's Notes: **I might rewrite this later?

**SPOILERS FOR "THE RUNAWAY."**

Alisa_**  
**_

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_Ten to Three_

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7. Unthought Thoughts

If she would ever think about that moment together (_the cliff, the waterfall, the hot sun on her cheeks and arms, him_), she would be surprised. His openness, her half-fallen tear… was it as new as it seemed?

He had said, if she would care to recall it, "I never told anyone this before." He'd never thought to tell anyone—not a living soul, not Katara, not Aang, not his father, not Appa or Momo or any other person—but he told her, Toph, and no one else.

This would surprise her, if the thought would happen to cross her mind. Or perhaps (she didn't think), it wouldn't. Should this be as surprising as it wasn't? Should it be more? Should she be thinking about how surprising it is at all?

She had cried in front of him. Only a single tear that she brushed away before it left her eye, but a cry nonetheless. (Not that she could recollect it.) An escaped tear that didn't bother her as much as it should have.

_Should_ it have bothered her more that she had cried in front of Sokka? In front of Sokka, of all people; if she was thinking this, she would have scoffed. If he didn't think of her as a little kid before, he was sure to think it now.

But would he? He didn't make fun of her or belittle her; he treated her just like he treated every other one of his friends. Except…

Maybe he did treat her a little differently (not that she would know, not that she was _thinking_ about it). Almost like… well, almost like a best friend. He told her things he'd never told anyone else; he took every tear, every punch in stride. He could talk to her. She could talk to him. They could talk to each other and… well, that was okay.

She liked it that way.

_Not_ that she thought that. 


	8. When All the World Has Faded to Black

**Author's Notes: **I'm only a few hours late?

**SPOILERS FOR "THE PUPPETMASTER."**

Alisa_**  
**_

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_Ten to Three_

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8. When All the World Has Faded to Black 

"I can't see anything down there."

The faintest of smiles flitted across her face. She reached out and brushed her fingers against the back of his hand. Her pale, slender fingers slid smoothly around his wrist; his hand twitched, whether in surprise or to accommodate this sudden intrusion she didn't know, but she did note that tiny acceleration in heart rate he probably wasn't even aware of. "That's why you have me."

Her voice sounded different than her own, more assured and comfortable with herself; it didn't hold that arrogant ring it sometimes sang with, nor did it indicate that the Blind Bandit was dwelling beneath the surface, waiting for and wanting the perfect moment to strike.

No, for once, she sounded less like Fighter and more like Provider. _(She was the one with the upper hand, the guiding hand, they both knew.) _There was underlying Affection, often shoved out of the way by the Blind Bandit and hidden behind Sarcasm and Jibe, her closest friends. But somehow, Affection and Brashness had climbed their way to the top, threatening to break through that carefully laid barrier of Toph.

She could feel his confused eyes on her face, accepting as they were curious, and the Blind Bandit shrank away—Affection was growing, smiling, threatening to burst forth. His heart was steady (a constant _thump, thump_ to match her own); it was trusting, comforted (_comforting_), unquestioning. He knew she would lead him through the dark, through the coldest passages, through night and loss and an endless war until a light shone all around and blinded him and he longed for darkness again. He knew that she wouldn't let go; he knew that she would never let go, if he asked her not to.

She yanked his arm; only when he realized he was moving did he draw his eyes away from their connected hands and to the gaping emptiness in front of them, to a blackness all too willing to swallow them whole.

_That's why you have me._

They soared into the darkness together.

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AN: I can't have been the only person to notice the way he stared at their hands? You may also be wondering: Why wasn't Aang included in this drabble? My answer: Because I don't seem to recall Toph grabbing onto Aang's hand too... besides, now Aang's got Toph-o-vision! 


	9. Mind Shadows

**Author's Notes: **How's Nightmares and Daydreams for an episode? Instead of a crazy Toph/Sokka like Aang was in this episode, I went for dark. Because angst makes the world go 'round, yes?

Alisa_**  
**_

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_Ten to Three_

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_9. Mind Shadows_

She dreams in darkness.

Her sleep is empty, void of color, or shape, or depth. She dreams how she sees, only more and less.

There are no sounds in her nightmares, no screaming or pleading _(but that just makes it worse)_. There are no vibrations, showing her people or things. There is nothing to her dreams to suggest they are dreams, because her dreams are nothing more than darkness.

But in her dreams, she feels.

The screaming _(the pleading, and her name, over and over again)_ rips through her soul as if his lips were pressed against her ear, though silence is all she can hear. His voice rattles and echoes inside of her, like the lingering vibrations of an earthquake.

She can feel, with stunning accuracy, the fire that bites into his skin as if it were her very own. She cries for him and with him and for herself as flesh chars and how she knows she doesn't understand but all she can feel and see and comprehend is _his_ pain as it racks _her_ body.

And all the while her useless self watches in horror as the Firebender _(she can sense his revulsion, his terror, his regret) _moves to the next enemy soldier and unleashes a suffocating handful of fire.

His heart is slowing in her chest but for all her will, her legs won't move. Her name, falling from his desperate lips, constricts her lungs, no matter how silent it may be.

He dies in front of her, as silent and empty as her dreams.

——

He dreams of darkness.

His sleep is filled with color, and sound, and touch. He dreams how he sees, only more and less.

There is color in his nightmares, but it is pallid, and faded, and tinted a washed-out orange. There is sound, but his ears are covered in cotton and he understands more than he listens. There is touch, but it is hidden under invisible layers of unmovable cloth, almost reaching but never quite there.

He dreams in an apathetic fog.

Her voice, smothered by incomprehensible boundaries, crying for him, desperate for him, reaches for his heart but cannot succeed. Underneath, shrouded like sound, nearly but not quite, he can feel his heart ready to burst, longing and pained. But like sound, sight, everything, it is enveloped by the fog and leaves him confused and cold.

He can see her, in front of him, her body marked by fire, her clothes burned to her skin. He can see her in this pale, fuzzy world and his heart plucks a sympathetic note for her that quickly fades into silence. She cries for him, frantically, but he remains unmoved.

Slowly, her shouts fade and her head drops limply to the ground.

Pain, sharp, fast, sudden, fierce, relentless, pain and sadness and grief and regret hit him like his heart shattering a thousand times, until he can't think but for that all-encompassing pain that came a moment too late.

It overwhelms and presses in, blinding, drowning, and all the while a grey fog rolls out from over the sun.

——

The next morning, no one says a word.

She doesn't mention how she lay for an hour, listening, feeling, sensing his steady heart beating comfort back into her bones until she could pull her hands from the ground and open her eyes. She doesn't mention how she will listen, enthralled, to every world he will say, so that she can tuck it away and never be forced into endless silence again.

He doesn't mention how he lay in his sleeping bag and wept his eyes dry, swearing never to ignore her, or to only pretend to care, or to disregard her words. He doesn't mention how he will follow her into battle and keep her always in the corner of his eye, lest she disappear from view and never be seen again.

Before the invasion, they embrace.

Her hands grasp fistfuls of blue cloth and tighten until her fingers ache. His arms encircle her and squeeze until he fears she can't breathe.

They both wipe away half-fallen tears and walk into battle with assurance.

After all, dreams don't _always_ become reality _(they pray)_.

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End file.
